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The present leadership in Washington has moved aggressively and efficiently—and with venality and myopia—to lay waste to our noble aspirations and our natural endowments. What can we do about it?
Has mass delusion overtaken America’s collective consciousness and eaten into its soul? Rather than “America the Beautiful," are we becoming “America the Delusional”? The question sprang from speculating that many of my fellow citizens might agree with statements that expertise and evidence have clearly undercut. Would a majority think there was truth in them?
After reading these statements, ask yourself if my concern is warranted.
Having enumerated them, I pondered the toxic effect of such delusions on the soul of our nation. That Washington has mounted a ceaseless campaign of disinformation, on everything from the Iran War to voting integrity to the Reflecting Pool, only adds potency to the poison.
A nation’s soul, writes Gary Kowalski, is its “capacity for valor and visionary change.” Valor springs from confronting fear or pain with firmness and a realistic sense of one’s challenges. Visioning similarly involves the courage and wisdom to chart one’s future course with both creativity and a realistic take on present circumstances.
Nourishing the soul of this nation for 250 years has been its idealistic aspirations and its remarkable natural endowment. Mount Rushmore is a fit representation. All four leaders depicted there exhibited valor and vision on behalf of America’s unique assets, both prior to and during their presidency.
In contrast, the present leadership in Washington has moved aggressively and efficiently—and with venality and myopia—to lay waste to our noble aspirations and our natural endowments.
Our soul is on “life support.” Democratic self-governance and equality of economic opportunity, two pillars of national aspiration, are evaporating month by month. Calculated governmental action—and inaction—are accelerating the arrival of climate-related disasters and diminishing our natural capital.
Despite a grim present, future restoration of the nation’s soul is possible. It begins with each of us accepting in large part the unreality of the contentions listed above and helping leaders and their constituents chart a course within that frame. Whatever form our civic engagement takes, seeing ourselves as unabashed truth seekers is essential. Valorous action and visionary change derive from a firm grasp on what is real, not what is fanciful.
Motivated and supported by allies, we can make a difference. All it would require is each of us focusing on a delusion or two, and through writing, advocacy, or group action, promoting clear-eyed resilience over wishful thinking. Project Soul Restoration begins individually, takes root locally, then spreads regionally and nationally.
Break the mold. Take on the mantle of “influencer” on behalf of the nation’s soul!
"Is McCarthy’s witch hunt back?" asked Thierry Breton, a former EU commissioner now barred from entering the US.
European Union leaders and others around the world this week condemned President Donald Trump's administration for imposing a travel ban on a former EU commissioner and leaders of nongovernmental groups that fight against disinformation and hate speech—or, as US Secretary of State Marco Rubio called them, "agents of the global censorship-industrial complex."
Rubio said in a Tuesday statement that his department "is taking decisive action against five individuals who have led organized efforts to coerce American platforms to censor, demonetize, and suppress American viewpoints they oppose. These radical activists and weaponized NGOs have advanced censorship crackdowns by foreign states—in each case targeting American speakers and American companies."
The five people barred from the United States are Imran Ahmed, the British CEO of the Center for Countering Digital Hate; Clare Melford, another Brit from the Global Disinformation Index; Josephine Ballon and Anna-Lena von Hodenberg of the German group HateAid; and Thierry Breton, a French leader who helped craft the EU's Digital Services Act (DSA) as a commissioner.
"Is McCarthy’s witch hunt back?" Breton wrote on X—a social media platform that belongs to erstwhile Trump ally Elon Musk and was recently fined €120 million, or $140 million, for violating DSA's transparency obligations.
"As a reminder: 90% of the European Parliament—our democratically elected body—and all 27 member states unanimously voted the DSA," Breton noted. "To our American friends: 'Censorship isn't where you think it is.'"
As Anda Bologa, a senior researcher with the Tech Policy Program at the Center for European Policy Analysis, explained earlier this year, "the DSA tackles illegal or demonstrably harmful activity—terrorist propaganda, child sexual abuse material, and foreign-backed election meddling." The 2022 law also "mandates that platforms publish transparency reports on takedown requests, justify their decisions, and offer users appeal mechanisms."
In a Tuesday statement, the European Commission said it "strongly condemns" the US travel ban, adding: "Freedom of expression is a fundamental right in Europe and a shared core value with the United States across the democratic world. The EU is an open, rules-based single market, with the sovereign right to regulate economic activity in line with our democratic values and international commitments."
"Our digital rules ensure a safe, fair, and level playing field for all companies, applied fairly and without discrimination," the commission continued. "We have requested clarifications from the US authorities and remain engaged. If needed, we will respond swiftly and decisively to defend our regulatory autonomy against unjustified measures."
European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen posted the statement on X, and various other EU leaders shared similar messages.
German Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul said that "the entry bans imposed by the USA, including those against the chairpersons of HateAid, are not acceptable. The Digital Services Act ensures that everything that is illegal offline is also illegal online."
"The DSA was democratically adopted by the EU for the EU—it does not have extraterritorial effect," he continued. "We intend to address other interpretations fundamentally with the USA in the transatlantic dialogue, in order to strengthen our partnership."
The German campaigners, Ballon and von Hodenberg, said in a statement that "we will not be intimidated by a government that uses accusations of censorship to silence those who stand up for human rights and freedom of expression."
French President Emmanuel Macron said Wednesday that "I have just spoken with Thierry Breton and thanked him for his significant contributions in the service of Europe. We will stand firm against pressure and will protect Europeans."
Agnès Callamard, the secretary general of Amnesty International—which supports the DSA—wrote on X: "Now the US is sanctioning a former EU official and several heads of NGOs monitoring hate speech and disinformation—on the ground that they are censoring American speech! Laughable. Social media platforms must be regulated. Better and more. Not less."
Due to Brexit, the DSA notably does not apply to the United Kingdom, but that didn't spare the two UK campaigners targeted by the Trump administration. A spokesperson from Melford's group told the BBC that "the visa sanctions announced today are an authoritarian attack on free speech and an egregious act of government censorship."
"The Trump administration is, once again, using the full weight of the federal government to intimidate, censor, and silence voices they disagree with," the spokeperson added. "Their actions today are immoral, unlawful, and un-American."
Tom Malinowski, a former Democratic congressman from New Jersey running to return to the House of Reprentatives, called out the State Deparment he previously served in under the Obama administration for sanctioning leaders of groups "that flag instances of antisemitism, harm to children, deep fakes, and vaccine disinformation online."
"Most Americans want online platforms that are safer for our kids, with less hateful and harmful content," he added. "It is not censorship to urge social media and AI companies to enforce their own rules against these things! The State Department's action is a blatant attack on free speech."
Earlier this month, the US advocacy group Free Press released a report detailing Trump's "war on free speech" based on "more than 500 reports of verbal threats, executive orders, presidential memoranda, statements from the White House, actions by regulators and agencies, military and law enforcement deployment and activities, litigation, removal of website language on .gov websites, removal of official history and information at national parks and museums, and discontinued data collection by the federal government."
The report says that "while the US government has made efforts throughout this nation's history to censor people's expression and association—be it the exercise of freedom of speech, religion, press, assembly, or the right to petition the government for redress—the Trump administration's incessant attacks on even the most tentatively oppositional speech are uniquely aggressive, pervasive, and escalating."
The new denialism no longer bellows about hoaxes; it asks for more studies, more modelling, more consultations, always in the service of delay.
Belém promised a “COP of truth.” What unfolded was a courteous unravelling of ambition, as denialism left global climate action wobbling at the moment it needs steel.
As the Chair of the UK’s COP30 youth delegation, I realized within hours that this United Nations climate conference would be defined by its optics—not its outcomes. The venue teemed with political hopefuls more interested in cameras than commitments, and with a record 1,600 fossil fuel and 531 carbon-capture lobbyists, 1 in every 25 attendees served commercial interests.
Then came the negotiations, where delegates quietly diluted the science. References to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), long regarded as the global lodestar of climate knowledge, were either softened into ambiguity or dropped altogether. Several companies went even further, trumpeting improvements in emissions intensity as if they were genuine reductions.
It was greenwashing par excellence, a polite fiction to excuse keeping emissions exactly where they are.
After the failures of COP29 and COP30, the process will only matter again if governments are finally pushed toward honesty and supported by tools that can hold them to it.
So it was no surprise when the negotiations titled toward erasure, governing not just the deal but the language that framed it. The term “fossil fuel” vanished from the final Belém Political Package, replaced with sweeping and unenforceable vows to renewables and adaptation funding.
We should have foreseen how settled climate science would be twisted and spun. After all, one investigation found more than 14,000 pieces of COP-related disinformation in just the three months before Belém. Much of it was generated by AI, including a widely shared fake video that showed the host city swallowed by floods.
This version of climate denialism reveals the moral credibility of climate action is being leveraged to keep emissions frozen in place. It no longer bellows about hoaxes, except by Donald Trump who has happily dragged America back into isolationism. In the diplomatic world it asks for more studies, more modelling, more consultations, always in the service of delay. It is denialism wearing the mask of governance, and it is far more corrosive than the loud bluff it replaced.
The timing could hardly be worse. The IPCC’s carbon budget for a 50% chance of staying below 1.5°C will vanish by 2029 if emissions continue at today’s pace. This is also the first year after the Global Stocktake that mandates governments to draft national plans that will set our course until 2030.
And what happens now determines the shape of the decisive decade. Crossing 1.5°C sharply raises the risk of irreversible cryosphere collapse—rapid ice loss in Antarctica and Greenland which will lock the world into meters of sea-level rise that imperil coastal megacities across every hemisphere. At 2°C, another billion people will face severe water scarcity—especially in the Global South where adaptation capacity is lowest and exposure is highest. This reality is why the deliberate sidelining of climate science is not just exasperating but catastrophic.
And COP30’s lone nod to honesty—the Declaration on Information Integrity—feels painfully thin. The declaration, which promises to counter climate falsehoods, was only signed by 12 countries. And with no sanctions or accountability, it is a gesture at truth in the exact moment truth needed teeth.
We need a global firewall for climate truth: binding rules for climate information, a UN body capable of verifying data with transparent AI, and legal duties on platforms to curb the algorithmic spread of lies. Climate inaction is becoming a matter of legal liability. That burden should fall equally on those who deliberately twist the science.
There must be a counterweight capable of tracing disinformation, naming the culprits of confusion, and dragging the debate back to the science that anchors it. Only then can we hope to restart global climate momentum. And in an irony worthy of our age, the technology that helped generate the mess—AI—may be the only thing sharp enough to cut through it.
According to Sachin Dev Duggal, Britain’s foremost expert on applied artificial intelligence and EY’s Entrepreneur of the Year in 2023, the internet is now a space where reliable information sits beside convincing fabrications, and no amount of earnest climate communication will fix this without tools that can separate accuracy from invention at scale.
AI is already showing what those tools might look like. It can review millions of words in seconds and test claims against established climate data with a consistency no human team can match. We are already seeing this in practice. For example, the machine-learning model ClimateBERT has analysed corporate reports and exposed misleading emissions claims. Another model, CLIMINATOR, has also been trained to hold political and corporate actors to account by checking whether their climate statements align with the evidence or contradict it. And the FactCrisis project, cofounded by the EU, has used AI during heatwaves to track false statistics and identify accounts pushing them, offering a glimpse of what becomes possible when AI and international bodies finally start reinforcing one another.
Duggal argues that the next step is a decentralized verification model. Climate data from satellites, sensors, and national inventories would sit in a shared public ledger that no ministry or corporation can quietly revise. When a government or company makes a claim about progress, anyone could check it against a record that does not bend to convenience. It would make the small acts of creative reporting that feed climate denialism far harder to get away with.
Yet today’s AI carries a flaw that limits its usefulness. Large language models are fluent but ungrounded, reproducing the language of climate science without retaining the facts that give it weight, which makes them unreliable referees in a space awash with motivated distortions. Duggal sees that any serious AI tool must reconnect claims to their evidence, trace where the data came from, and reveal the steps that turned information into a conclusion. This is the direction of his SeKondBrain project, which concentrates on how to build these evidential scaffolds so that an AI system can point to the exact documents, numbers, or assumptions that shaped its judgement. That kind of traceability matters because it gives climate negotiators and regulators something concrete to interrogate. And without systems built to preserve and expose the evidence behind their outputs, AI will remain too opaque to play any serious role in protecting science.
After the failures of COP29 and COP30, the process will only matter again if governments are finally pushed toward honesty and supported by tools that can hold them to it. Without that basic partnership, we may have reached the point where another COP has nothing left to say.
This game of lies started decades ago with big oil and gas corporations, long before “fake news,” disinformation and misinformation were a thing. It's only gotten worse.
Blatant lies are putting the people and our planet at risk. Often told for profit or power’s sake, they hurt economic, environmental, and social standing of most of us at the expense of a few. In this nasty game, those who strive to expose the truth and stand up for progress pay the steepest price. And they are environmental activists, journalists, scientists, and ordinary citizens defending their communities.
This month, two pivotal global summits happen that could bring change. In Bangkok, Thailand, the International Civil Society Week brought together over a thousand citizen activists from around the world. In Belem, Brazil, COP30—the global climate conference—will see governments, businesses, scientists, and many others negotiate. Citizen activists and civil society may finally have a say there. The last three climate summits held in countries where there’s little democratic freedom and heavy reliance on oil production shunned them.
To fight the lies that stall progress, Brazil has launched a Global Initiative for Information Integrity on Climate Change at the climate summit. The civil society week declaration calls strongly for both climate action and ending disinformation. Global civil society leaders like Oxfam, ActionAid, and Greenpeace as well as hundreds of grassroots organizations from Afghanistan to Zambia have endorsed.
However, buzzwords like disinformation and lack of information integrity, in their sophistication, often dull the impact. Perhaps they feel inauthentic. We need to think outside the box to engage in more authentic conversations involving people with diverse viewpoints.
For starters, let’s call false information what they are, lies. Lies that pervert the progress, hurt the many, and kill those who speak up. This game of lies started decades ago with big oil and gas corporations, long before “fake news,” disinformation and misinformation were a thing. What has gotten worse is that they are now blatantly colluding with governments and political leaders around the world to protect their short-term gain.
Those who stand to lose the most in the game are ordinary folks, especially those who struggle to make a daily living or don’t have the resources to defend themselves.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t only about “social justice.” The climate lies stall economic growth. The United Sates, once the global champion of the free market, is today doomed to become uncompetitive. President Trump, sponsored by American oil oligarchs blatantly lied at the United Nations earlier this year. His claims that renewable energy is dangerous, expensive, and unreliable will hurt the economic progress of the United States and the world.
He attacked countries making progress on renewable energy. The narrative of lies leads to decisions and bullying of nations and communities. When Trump raised tariffs against solar panels made in Southeast Asia, workers lost jobs. This includes Thailand, where civil society week was held.
Examples are many from Trump and other regimes. Russian bots, European and Australian leaders, too, have spread lies about the unreliability of renewable energy, including false threats of job loss and a rise in commodity prices. China, despite being the global leader in renewable energy, attacks environmental activists.
The lies kill. In the past decade, over 2,000 activists have paid with their lives for speaking up and standing up to protect forests, rivers, and community resources. They stood up against coal and oil extraction, mining, logging, land grabbing, and large-scale development that destroyed communities.
Civil society and activists who speak up get labelled foreign agents or eco-terrorists. They are arrested, harassed in public and in courts, and bullied online. This is despite their efforts to try to protect us. Every year, climate disasters, worsened by fossil fuels and harmful developments, kill tens of thousands and displace millions. The lies kill both blatantly and silently.
For the lies and bullying to end, we must engage in an open, honest, and empathic conversation. We need to have dialogue with diverse viewpoints. And this is not easy because all of us are burdened with our daily struggles and comfortable with information consumption habits. Hearing difficult truths and contradicting points of view are stressful.
Civil society, movements, development organizations, and media are losing relevance and trust among the general public. We have failed at listening, speaking, and interacting with farmers, women workers, students, young men, doctors, and business folks. Yes, we do speak up, but well-intentioned campaigns often end up merely preaching to the choir.
We get likes on social media, signatures for petitions, and like-minded folks at street protests. But that isn’t enough to build empathy and build a majority movement, even with those who are most likely to suffer from climate lies and bullying. To connect with people and come together with people, we must first care about who they are. As agents of social change, it is not just about playing to an audience but taking care as an ethical duty.
At the same time, we must shout out at the big fat liars, Big Oil, and their colluding partners in media and politics. Citizens, journalists, movements, and governments must stand for science, reason, and progress. This means urgently demanding an end to fossil fuels and moving to green energy while also protecting communities at risk during the transition. We must also defend the activists who stand up for our rights and the planet.
More of us must act today and stand with those who do. The argument for collective demand and action for climate progress isn’t just moral. Let’s call it collectively selfish–it may just improve our health and economic and social well-being.
His most dangerous crime is not simply corruption or obstruction, nor even incitement of insurrection: It’s the deliberate attempted destruction of American democracy itself.
When historians look back on this era, they’ll inevitably ask how a nation built on principles of democracy, justice, and equality allowed one man to commit such a broad range of crimes and abuses, and whether President Donald Trump is indeed the most dangerous criminal in American history.
To fully grasp the gravity of Trump’s actions, consider the extensive categories of his criminal and potentially criminal conduct, each more disturbing than the last.
First, there’s the relentless financial corruption. Trump has long played fast and loose with the law when it came to his finances. In New York, his company was convicted of tax fraud and financial manipulation designed to deceive lenders and inflate his wealth. Trump University was shuttered after a $25 million fraud settlement, its “students” left feeling defrauded.
His charitable organization, the Trump Foundation, was dissolved following revelations that funds intended for charity were instead used to benefit Trump personally and politically, and to pay off Pam Bondi in Florida where he and Epstein were living (she was AG for almost a decade and never went after Epstein).
If America is to survive as a free nation, we must confront the reality of Trump’s actions.
But Trump’s shady financial dealings didn’t begin or end with these public scandals. For decades, he was closely associated with New York’s organized crime families. Trump Tower itself was built using concrete provided by mob-linked companies.
Roy Cohn, Trump’s mentor and attorney as I detail in The Last American President: A Broken Man, a Corrupt Party, and a World on the Brink, was a notorious fixer and lawyer for mob figures such as Anthony “Fat Tony” Salerno and Paul Castellano.
Trump’s casinos also regularly skirted the law, drawing scrutiny from federal investigators for potential money laundering linked to organized crime, and his former casino manager recently revealed to CNN that Trump and Jeffrey Epstein once even showed up together with underage girls in tow (the White House denies the story).
Trump’s long relationship with Epstein further exposes his moral bankruptcy and possible criminality. The two were close associates and owned residences near each other in New York and Palm Beach, socializing together frequently.
Trump famously described Epstein as a “terrific guy” who enjoyed the company of beautiful women, some “on the younger side.” Multiple reports suggest Trump knew about Epstein’s exploitation of minors, yet Trump continued their association until public scandal made it inconvenient.
Then there are Trump’s questionable international relationships, with none more alarming than his mysterious affinity for Russian President Vladimir Putin. Trump’s first administration consistently favored Russian interests, dismissing election interference findings from American intelligence agencies, undermining NATO, and, in his second administration even withholding military aid from Ukraine, thus benefiting Putin’s geopolitical ambitions.
While the full nature of Trump’s entanglement with Putin remains hidden, Trump’s obsequious behavior toward the Russian dictator raises serious questions about financial leverage or compromised loyalties. For example, the only major country in the world Trump chose not to impose tariffs on this year was Russia.
Trump’s disturbing Russian connections also include his 2016 campaign manager and close confidant, Paul Manafort, whose career was dedicated to installing pro-Putin autocrats and corrupt oligarchs across Eastern Europe, including Ukraine and Albania. Heidi Seigmund Cuda writes about his recent Albania connection in her great Bette Dangerous Substack newsletter.
Manafort was convicted of multiple felonies, including tax and bank fraud, stemming from his shady dealings overseas, actions intimately connected with Putin’s broader geopolitical ambitions, for which Trump pardoned him.
Trump’s choice of Manafort to lead his 2016 campaign wasn’t coincidental; it signaled to Moscow an openness to influence, further raising troubling questions about Trump’s susceptibility to foreign manipulation and complicity in Manafort’s criminal schemes.
Trump’s election interference is equally alarming. It began with hush-money payments to Stormy Daniels and Karen McDougal to manipulate public perception during the 2016 campaign, for which he was convicted of felony election manipulation charges in Manhattan last year.
More brazenly, Trump attempted to subvert democracy in Georgia when he lost the 2020 election by demanding of Georgia’s secretary of state, “I just want to find 11,780 votes, which is one more than we have.”
His attempts to cling to power by any means necessary reached a terrifying crescendo with the conspiracy to overturn the 2020 presidential election, ultimately joined by over 100 Republican members of Congress. This led to a federal indictment, making him the first former president charged with seeking to destroy the very democratic system that put him into power.
Trump’s abuse of presidential authority is chillingly unprecedented. Robert Mueller’s investigation laid out multiple instances where Trump criminally obstructed justice, brazenly interfering with federal investigations. He solicited foreign interference from Ukraine in the 2020 election, a move that led to his first impeachment.
Trump’s presidency was also marred by repeated violations of the Emoluments Clause as he profited directly from foreign governments funneling money through his hotels and golf clubs. He pitched Teslas from the White House in flagrant violation of the Hatch Act (penalty: five years in prison). Even after leaving office in 2021, Trump illegally retained classified documents and obstructed federal efforts to retrieve them, leading to further federal charges.
One of the most grotesque and morally bankrupt chapters of the Trump presidency unfolded in the early months of the Covid-19 pandemic, when Trump and his son-in-law Jared Kushner reportedly made the political calculation that the virus was “only hitting blue states” and disproportionately killing Black Americans so it could be weaponized.
According to reporting at the time, Kushner convened a secretive White House task force of mostly male, white, preppy private-sector advisors who concluded that a robust federal response to minimize deaths would be politically disadvantageous. Their analysis was clear: Since it was primarily Democratic governors and Black communities suffering the early brunt of the pandemic (New York, New Jersey, Washington), Trump could politically benefit by blaming local leadership and withholding meaningful federal aid.
It was a cynical—and deadly—strategy to let the virus burn through the opposition’s voter base that ultimately led to an estimated 500,000 unnecessary American deaths and gave us as the second-most Covid-19 deaths per person in the world.
This approach not only explains the administration’s chaotic and insufficient response to testing, supplies, and coordination, it exposes a level of callous—morally, if not legally criminal—political calculus rarely seen in modern American history since the days of the Trail of Tears.
Leaked documents and internal communications at the time confirmed that federal resources were distributed unevenly, often favoring Republican-led states.
Trump also regularly lashed out at Democratic governors like Gretchen Whitmer and Andrew Cuomo while ignoring their pleas for ventilators and personal protective equipment. As the death toll mounted, Trump publicly minimized the virus, holding rallies and rejecting masks, while privately admitting to journalist Bob Woodward that Covid-19 was “deadly stuff.”
This wasn’t just negligence: It was targeted neglect driven by racism and partisanship, carried out in the middle of a once-in-a-century public health emergency.
Beyond these abuses of power, Trump openly incited political violence. His rhetoric fueled vigilantism and violent confrontations at rallies.
Most infamously, on January 6, 2021, he incited an insurrection designed to halt the peaceful transition of power in a stunning betrayal without precedent in American history. He encouraged extremist and white supremacist groups like the Proud Boys, Three Percenters, and Oath Keepers, effectively endorsing domestic terrorism.
Right up until he took office and corruptly shut them down, investigations continued into potential wire fraud and misuse of funds from Trump’s “Save America” PAC, alongside scrutiny into financial irregularities involving his Truth Social platform.
Investigations into obstruction, witness intimidation, and potential bribery—now blocked as the Supreme Court has put him above the law, or shut down by his toadies—further compound his record of potential crimes.
Yet Trump’s ultimate crime goes beyond mere lawbreaking. He has methodically eroded democratic institutions, weaponized disinformation to undermine public trust, and attacked the traditionally nonpartisan independence of the judiciary, intelligence agencies, military, and law enforcement. His assaults on the press are right out of Putin’s playbook. Trump’s relentless assault on truth and democracy normalizes authoritarianism and political violence.
Thus, his most dangerous crime is not simply corruption or obstruction, nor even incitement of insurrection: It’s the deliberate attempted destruction of American democracy itself. This crime, far more profound than any individual act, threatens the survival of the republic itself.
If America is to survive as a free nation, we must confront the reality of Trump’s actions. He isn’t merely a criminal; he’s become the most dangerous criminal in American history precisely because his actions imperil the very foundations of our democracy.
Allowing such crimes to go unpunished risks setting a precedent that future would-be autocrats may follow, forever tarnishing the promise of American democracy. Once he’s out of power, our nation’s new mantra must become, “Never forget, never forgive, never again.”
In Superman, we’re watching something hauntingly familiar: a powerful state waging war on a trapped civilian population, a global superpower choosing complicity over justice, and a narrative war where truth is the first casualty.
Director James Gunn insists the new Superman film isn’t a political allegory, noting the script was completed before the events of October 7, 2023. But art, especially in times of global crisis, often outgrows the intentions of its creators. Whether consciously crafted or not, the world is receiving this film as a lens through which to process grief, rage, and a collective hunger for justice for the Palestinian people.
Watching the film, I couldn’t help but cheer not only for Superman—but for the people of Jarhanpur, a battered, besieged territory subjected to ongoing military assault by its high-tech neighbor, Boravia. Jarhanpur’s residents are depicted as marginalized and vilified, living in ruins under constant threat. The imagery of bombed-out buildings, displaced families, and children pulled from rubble evokes the horrors of the Israeli assault on Gaza and the mounting toll on Palestinian civilians. The people of Jarhanpur are also racially coded to align with Arab identity: darker-skinned actors, traditional garments, accents, and names.
Another parallel lies in the politics of narrative. Boravia brands Jarhanpur’s fighters as terrorists—a label the film slowly dismantles by revealing the humanity, grief, and resistance of a people struggling to survive. It’s a powerful reflection of the Palestinian experience, where the word “terrorist” is weaponized to erase history, justify massacres, and delegitimize resistance.
Boravia, portrayed as the aggressor, fits the role of villainous state all too well: overwhelming military superiority, settler-style expansionism, and a narrative of perpetual self-defense. The film’s portrayal of Boravia’s government manipulating facts and weaponizing fear mirrors Israel’s real-world disinformation campaigns—and the Western media’s complicity in amplifying them.
Those of us who have taken a stand against Israel’s genocide should take advantage of this cultural moment.
Superman himself initially tries to remain neutral—but neutrality collapses in the face of genocide. He ultimately sides with the oppressed, recognizing that Jarhanpur’s people are fighting for survival, dignity, and freedom. This arc mirrors the global awakening we’re seeing today, as more and more people stand with Palestinians and reject the apartheid policies and war crimes of the Israeli state.
In Superman, we’re watching something hauntingly familiar: a powerful state waging war on a trapped civilian population, a global superpower choosing complicity over justice, and a narrative war where truth is the first casualty.
Those of us who have taken a stand against Israel’s genocide should take advantage of this cultural moment. Distribute flyers at film showings. Write your own reviews. Use this film as an educational tool to expose Israel’s atrocities and uplift the righteous struggle of the Palestinian people.
And maybe—just maybe—Superman can remind us that the world community, united with the Palestinian people, can become the real superpower that defeats Boravia… I mean, Israel.
If we can’t build an equitable, sustainable society on our own, it’s pointless to hope that a machine that can’t think straight will do it for us.
Recent articles and books about artificial intelligence offer images of the future that align like iron filings around two magnetic poles—utopia and apocalypse.
On one hand, AI is said to be leading us toward a perfect future of ease, health, and broadened understanding. We, aided by our machines and their large language models (LLMs), will know virtually everything and make all the right choices to usher in a permanent era of enlightenment and plenty. On the other hand, AI is poised to thrust us into a future of unemployment, environmental destruction, and delusion. Our machines will gobble scarce resources while churning out disinformation and making deadly weapons that AI agents will use to wipe us out once we’re of no further use to them.
Utopia and apocalypse have long exerted powerful pulls on human imagination and behavior. (My first book, published in 1989 and updated in 1995, was Memories and Visions of Paradise: Exploring the Universal Myth of a Lost Golden Age; it examined the history and meaning of the utopian archetype.) New technologies tend to energize these two polar attractors in our collective psyche because toolmaking and language are humanity’s two superpowers, which have enabled our species to take over the world, while also bringing us to a point of existential peril. New technologies increase some people’s power over nature and other people, producing benefits that, mentally extrapolated forward in time, encourage expectations of a grand future. But new technologies also come with costs (resource depletion, pollution, increased economic inequality, accidents, and misuse) that evoke fears of an ultimate reckoning. Language supercharges our toolmaking talent by enabling us to learn from others; it is also the vehicle for formulating and expressing our hopes and fears. AI, because it is both technological and linguistic, and because it is being adopted at a frantic pace and so disruptively, is especially prone to triggering the utopia-apocalypse reflex.
Messages about both the promise and the peril of AI are often crafted by powerful people seeking to consolidate their control over the AI industry.
We humans have been ambivalent about technology at least since our adoption of writing. Tools enable us to steal fire from the gods, like the mythical Prometheus, whom the gods punished with eternal torment; they are the wings of Icarus, who flies too close to the sun and falls to his death. AI promises to make technology autonomously intelligent, thus calling to mind still another cautionary tale, “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.”
What could go right—or wrong? After summarizing both the utopian and apocalyptic visions for AI, I’ll explore two questions: first, how do these extreme visions help or mislead us in our attempts to understand AI? And second, whom do these visions serve? As we’ll see, there are some early hints of AI’s ultimate limits, which suggest a future that doesn’t align well with many of the highest hopes or deepest fears for the new technology.
As a writer, I generally don’t deliberately use AI. Nevertheless, in researching this article, I couldn’t resist asking Google’s free AI Overview, “What is the utopian vision for AI?” This came back a fraction of a second later:
The utopian vision for AI envisions a future where AI seamlessly integrates into human life, boosting productivity, innovation, and overall well-being. It’s a world where AI solves complex problems like climate change and disease, and helps humanity achieve new heights.
Google Overview’s first sentence needs editing to remove verbal redundancy (vision, envisions), but AI does succeed in cobbling together a serviceable summary of its promoters’ dreams.
The same message is on display in longer form in the article “Visions of AI Utopia” by Future Sight Echo, who informs us that AI will soften the impacts of economic inequality by delivering resources more efficiently and “in a way that is dynamic and able to adapt instantly to new information and circumstances.” Increased efficiency will also reduce humanity’s impact on the environment by minimizing energy requirements and waste of all kinds.
But that’s only the start. Education, creativity, health and longevity, translation and cultural understanding, companionship and care, governance and legal representation—all will be revolutionized by AI.
There is abundant evidence that people with money share these hopes for AI. The hottest stocks on Wall Street (notably Nvidia) are AI-related, as are many of the corporations that contribute significantly to the NPR station I listen to in Northern California, thereby gaining naming rights at the top of the hour.
Capital is being shoveled in the general direction of AI so rapidly (roughly $300 billion just this year, in the U.S. alone) that, if its advertised potential is even half believable, we should all rest assured that most human problems will soon vanish.
Or will they?
Strangely, when I initially asked Google’s AI, “What is the vision for AI apocalypse?”, its response was, “An AI Overview is not available for this search.” Maybe I didn’t word my question well. Or perhaps AI sensed my hostility. Full disclosure: I’ve gone on record calling for AI to be banned immediately. (Later, AI Overview was more cooperative, offering a lengthy summary of “common themes in the vision of an AI apocalypse.”) My reason for proposing an AI ban is that AI gives us humans more power, via language and technology, than we already have; and that, collectively, we already have way too much power vis-à-vis the rest of nature. We’re overwhelming ecosystems through resource extraction and waste dumping to such a degree that, if current trends continue, wild nature may disappear by the end of the century. Further, the most powerful humans are increasingly overwhelming everyone else, both economically and militarily. Exerting our power more intelligently probably won’t help, because we’re already too smart for our own good. The last thing we should be doing is to cut language off from biology so that it can exist entirely in a simulated techno-universe.
Let’s be specific. What, exactly, could go wrong because of AI? For starters, AI could make some already bad things worse—in both nature and society.
Just as there are limits to fossil-fueled utopia, nuclear utopia, and perpetual-growth capitalist utopia, there are limits to AI utopia. By the same token, limits may prevent AI from becoming an all-powerful grim reaper.
There are many ways in which humanity is already destabilizing planetary environmental systems; climate change is the way that’s most often discussed. Through its massive energy demand, AI could accelerate climate change by generating more carbon emissions. According to the International Energy Agency, “Driven by AI use, the U.S. economy is set to consume more electricity in 2030 for processing data than for manufacturing all energy-intensive goods combined, including aluminum, steel, cement, and chemicals.” The world also faces worsening water shortages; AI needs vast amounts. Nature is already reeling from humanity’s accelerating rates of resource extraction and depletion. AI requires millions of tons of copper, steel, cement, and other raw materials, and suppliers are targeting Indigenous lands for new mines.
We already have plenty of social problems, too, headlined by worsening economic inequality. AI could widen the divide between rich and poor by replacing lower-skilled workers with machines while greatly increasing the wealth of those who control the technology. Many people worry that corporations have gained too much political influence; AI could accelerate this trend by making the gathering and processing of massive amounts of data on literally everyone cheaper and easier, and by facilitating the consolidation of monopolies. Unemployment is always a problem in capitalist societies, but AI threatens quickly to throw millions of white-collar workers off payrolls: Anthropic’s CEO Dario Amodei predicts that AI could eliminate half of entry-level white-collar jobs within five years, while Bill Gates forecasts that only three job fields will survive AI—energy, biology, and AI system programming.
However, the most horrific visions for AI go beyond just making bad things worse. The title of a recent episode of The Bulwark Podcast, “Will Sam Altman and His AI Kill Us All?”, states the worst-case scenario bluntly. But how, exactly, could AI kill us all? One way is by automating military decisions while making weapons cheaper and more lethal (a recent Brookings commentary was titled, “How Unchecked AI Could Trigger a Nuclear War”). Veering toward dystopian sci-fi, some AI philosophers opine that the technology, once it’s significantly smarter than people, might come to view biological humans as pointless wasters of resources that machines could use more efficiently. At that point, AI could pursue multiple pathways to terminate humanity.
I don’t know the details of how AI will unfold in the months and years to come. But the same could be said for AI industry leaders. They certainly understand the technology better than I do, but their AI forecasts may miss a crucial factor. You see, I’ve trained myself over the years to look for limits in resources, energy, materials, and social systems. Most people who work in the fields of finance and technology tend to ignore limits, or even to believe that there are none. This leads them to absurdities, such as Elon Musk’s expectation of colonizing Mars. Earth is finite, humans will be confined to this planet forever, and therefore lots of things we can imagine doing just won’t happen. I would argue that discussions about AI’s promise and peril need a dose of limits awareness.
Arvind Narayanan and Sayash Kapoor, in an essay titled “AI Is Normal Technology,” offer some of that awareness. They argue that AI development will be constrained by the speed of human organizational and institutional change and by “hard limits to the speed of knowledge acquisition because of the social costs of experimentation.” However, the authors do not take the position that, because of these limits, AI will have only minor impacts on society; they see it as an amplifier of systemic risks.
In addition to the social limits Narayanan and Kapoor discuss, there will also (as mentioned above) be environmental limits to the energy, water, and materials that AI needs, a subject explored at a recent conference.
AI seems to present a spectacular new slate of opportunities and threats. But, in essence, much of what was true before AI remains so now.
Finally, there’s a crucial limit to AI development that’s inherent in the technology itself. Large language models need vast amounts of high-quality data. However, as more information workers are replaced by AI, or start using AI to help generate content (both trends are accelerating), more of the data available to AI will be AI-generated rather than being produced by experienced researchers who are constantly checking it against the real world. Which means AI could become trapped in a cycle of declining information quality. Tech insiders call this “AI model collapse,” and there’s no realistic plan to stop it. AI itself can’t help.
In his article “Some Signs of AI Model Collapse Begin to Reveal Themselves,” Steven J. Vaughan-Nichols argues that this is already happening. There have been widely reported instances of AI inadvertently generating fake scientific research documents. The Chicago Sun-Times recently published a “Best of Summer” feature that included forthcoming novels that don’t exist. And the Trump administration’s widely heralded “Make America Healthy Again” report included citations (evidently AI-generated) for non-existent studies. Most of us have come to expect that new technologies will have bugs that engineers will gradually remove or work around, resulting in improved performance. With AI, errors and hallucination problems may just get worse, in a cascading crescendo.
Just as there are limits to fossil-fueled utopia, nuclear utopia, and perpetual-growth capitalist utopia, there are limits to AI utopia. By the same token, limits may prevent AI from becoming an all-powerful grim reaper.
What will be the real future of AI? Here’s a broad-brush prediction (details are currently unavailable due to my failure to upgrade my crystal ball’s operating system). Over the next few years, corporations and governments will continue quickly to invest in AI, driven by its ability to cut labor costs. We will become systemically dependent on the technology. AI will reshape society—employment, daily life, knowledge production, education, and wealth distribution. Then, speeding up as it goes, AI will degenerate into a hallucinating, blithering cacophony of little voices spewing nonsense. Real companies, institutions, and households will suffer as a result. Then, we’ll either figure out how to live without AI, or confine it to relatively limited tasks and data sets. America got a small foretaste of this future recently, when Musk-led DOGE fired tens of thousands of federal workers with the expectation of replacing many of them with AI—without knowing whether AI could do their jobs (oops: Thousands are being rehired).
A messy neither-this-nor-that future is not what you’d expect if you spend time reading documents like “AI 2027,” five industry insiders’ detailed speculative narrative of the imminent AI future, which allows readers to choose the story’s ending. Option A, “slowdown,” leads to a future in which AI is merely an obedient, super-competent helper; while in option B, “race,” humanity is extinguished by an AI-deployed bioweapon because people take up land that could be better used for more data centers. Again, we see the persistent, binary utopia-or-apocalypse stereotype, here presented with impressive (though misleading) specificity.
At the start of this article, I attributed AI utopia-apocalypse discourse to a deep-seated tic in our collective human unconscious. But there’s probably more going on here. In her recent book Empire of AI, tech journalist Karen Hao traces polarized AI visions back to the founding of OpenAI by Sam Altman and Elon Musk. Both were, by turns, dreamers and doomers. Their consistent message: We (i.e., Altman, Musk, and their peers) are the only ones who can be trusted to shepherd the process of AI development, including its regulation, because we’re the only ones who understand the technology. Hao makes the point that messages about both the promise and the peril of AI are often crafted by powerful people seeking to consolidate their control over the AI industry.
Utopia and apocalypse feature prominently in the rhetoric of all cults. It’s no surprise, but still a bit of a revelation, therefore, to hear Hao conclude in a podcast interview that AI is a cult (if it walks, quacks, and swims like a cult... ). And we are all being swept up in it.
So, how should we think about AI in a non-cultish way? In his article, “We Need to Stop Pretending AI Is Intelligent,” Guillaume Thierry, a professor of cognitive neuroscience, writes, “We must stop giving AI human traits.” Machines, even apparently smart ones, are not humans—full stop. Treating them as if they are human will bring dehumanizing results for real, flesh-and-blood people.
The collapse of civilization won’t be AI generated. That’s because environmental-social decline was already happening without any help from LLMs. AI is merely adding a novel factor in humanity’s larger reckoning with limits. In the short run, the technology will further concentrate wealth. “Like empires of old,” writes Karen Hao, “the new empires of AI are amassing extraordinary riches across space and time at great expense to everyone else.” In the longer run, AI will deplete scarce resources faster.
If AI is unlikely to be the bringer of destruction, it’s just as unlikely to deliver heaven on Earth. Just last week I heard from a writer friend who used AI to improve her book proposal. The next day, I went to my doctor for a checkup, and he used AI to survey my vital signs and symptoms; I may experience better health maintenance as a result. That same day, I read a just-published Apple research paper that concludes LLMs cannot reason reliably. Clearly, AI can offer tangible benefits within some fields of human pursuit. But we are fooling ourselves if we assume that AI can do our thinking for us. If we can’t build an equitable, sustainable society on our own, it’s pointless to hope that a machine that can’t think straight will do it for us.
I’m not currently in the job market and therefore can afford to sit on the sidelines and cast judgment on AI. For many others, economic survival depends on adopting the new technology. Finding a personal modus vivendi with new tools that may have dangerous and destructive side effects on society is somewhat analogous to charting a sane and survivable daily path in a nation succumbing to authoritarian rule. We all want to avoid complicity in awful outcomes, while no one wants to be targeted or denied opportunity. Rhetorically connecting AI with dictatorial power makes sense: One of the most likely uses of the new technology will be for mass surveillance.
Maybe the best advice for people concerned about AI would be analogous to advice that democracy advocates are giving to people worried about the destruction of the social-governmental scaffolding that has long supported Americans’ freedoms and rights: Identify your circles of concern, influence, and control; scrutinize your sources of information and tangibly support those with the most accuracy and courage, and the least bias; and forge communitarian bonds with real people.
AI seems to present a spectacular new slate of opportunities and threats. But, in essence, much of what was true before AI remains so now. Human greed and desire for greater control over nature and other people may lead toward paths of short-term gain. But, if you want a good life when all’s said and done, learn to live well within limits. Live with honesty, modesty, and generosity. AI can’t help you with that.
Whatever the causes, the world has gone haywire and in the years ahead all of us will need courage more than ever.
I don’t know much about the theory of courage. But I believe that it shows up when summoned from the depths of our loyalties and affections—doing work for which we’re willing to live and die.
Whatever the causes, the world has gone haywire and in the years ahead all of us will need courage more than ever. A few examples to make the point:
Future generations will think us “deranged” in Amitav Ghosh’s words. Your job—our job—is to prove them wrong and make a better future than that in prospect. So, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” (Mary Oliver)
As you think it over, know that there is work for you to do—good work... and trouble to cause, what John Lewis called “necessary trouble.” But good work and necessary trouble always come with the courage to do it. With that in mind, a few observations:
As for courage... remember the Lion in The Wizard of Oz walking down that yellow brick road looking for courage... only to find that the wizard was a phony and that he had courage all along, it was all around him and It’s all around you too and will come when you most need it. You will be surprised when you discover how much you can do in the years ahead, and there is not a moment to lose.
AND Congratulations, we’re very proud of you! Godspeed!
The attack on NPR is not incidental. It is part of a broader, systematic effort to hollow out the institutions that sustain a shared civic life.
On May 27, 2025, NPR and three of its member stations filed a federal lawsuit against President Donald Trump and senior administration officials, challenging the legality and constitutionality of a sweeping executive order that seeks to eliminate all federal funding for public media. The order, signed in secret on May 1 and titled “Ending Taxpayer Subsidization of Biased Media,” instructs federal agencies and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting to sever direct and indirect support for NPR and PBS.
The White House claims public broadcasters have become ideologically compromised—too progressive, too elite. But the lawsuit lays bare what this order truly represents: an act of retaliation against protected speech, an attempt to coerce editorial compliance through financial pressure, and a direct violation of the First Amendment and the Public Broadcasting Act of 1967.
This isn’t just a legal question. It’s a campaign to punish an institution for refusing to perform ideology—or worse, for refusing to perform for profit.
Calling NPR “left-wing” isn’t just a complaint—it’s a tactic. It frames the pursuit of truth as bias, and intellectual legitimacy as partisanship.
The attack on NPR is not incidental. It is part of a broader, systematic effort to hollow out the institutions that sustain a shared civic life. It arrives amid a sweeping retreat from democratic infrastructure, in a media environment already distorted by market forces and polarized spectacle. The point is not to shrink government, but to starve the parts of it that still serve public truth.
And when that truth is no longer institutionalized—when public media is stripped away—we are left with a brittle and binary media ecosystem. One pole is built on the commodification of dissent: branded, aestheticized resistance packaged for affirmation but divorced from redistribution. The other is built on grievance-fueled nationalism: disinformation-heavy, algorithmically weaponized, and driven by a hunger for cultural control.
To be clear: This is not a critique of independent movement journalism, which continues to speak truth to power. The critique is directed at large-scale, corporate liberal media that simulates transformation while avoiding structural change. Between that and right-wing propaganda lies a collapsing middle—where nuance, contradiction, and collective understanding once lived.
Over the past decade, American institutions have developed a method of control that depends not on silencing dissent, but absorbing it. Dissent becomes aestheticized. A movement becomes a marketing slogan. A crisis becomes a campaign. Moral performance replaces material change. The result is a politics of gesture—rhetorically progressive, materially stagnant.
This logic has reshaped journalism itself. Newsrooms adopt the language of equity while preserving internal hierarchies. Social platforms reward provocation, not precision. Engagement becomes the end goal. As backlash rises, even institutions that once embraced equity quietly retreat—rewriting mission statements, cutting DEI staff, and recasting structural critique as reputational risk.
In this context, public media has held a distinct line. NPR hasn’t turned itself into a lifestyle brand. It hasn’t gamified its coverage or collapsed journalism into performance. Its reporting focuses on infrastructure—housing, public health, rural economies—topics long abandoned by commercial outlets because they don’t scale.
What’s at stake isn’t just funding—it’s whether journalism can still exist as a civic discipline rather than a partisan weapon or a market product.
And yes, it has a tone. That tone reflects a commitment to method, verification, and proximity to academic and professional norms. That is precisely what’s under attack. Calling NPR “left-wing” isn’t just a complaint—it’s a tactic. It frames the pursuit of truth as bias, and intellectual legitimacy as partisanship. The same campaign now targeting NPR has already targeted public universities, climate science, and historical scholarship.
This executive order wasn’t born of fiscal conservatism. It came from a worldview where facts are threats unless they’re profitable or loyal. On the surface, this is about money. Beneath it lies a deeper question: Can democracy survive without institutions committed to unmonetized, unmanipulated truth?
Public media is one of the last places where journalism operates outside of market logic. If it falls, we’re left with only two choices: branded content that performs outrage for engagement, or weaponized narrative designed to dominate. In that void, journalism becomes either commercialized or coerced.
We’re already living in the early stages of that collapse. Local papers are gone. Regional reporting has been gutted. What remains is a patchwork of influencers and platforms, each calibrated to a target audience, each echoing a self-reinforcing narrative.
Public media’s refusal to conform—to accelerate, to provoke, to monetize—is now treated not as moderation, but as provocation.
The lawsuit NPR has filed is necessary. But it also marks a threshold. What’s at stake isn’t just funding—it’s whether journalism can still exist as a civic discipline rather than a partisan weapon or a market product.
Public media is quiet. It’s moderate. It rarely declares. But in a media economy built on spectacle and churn, quietness itself has become an act of resistance.
The attack on NPR is not just political retaliation. It is a warning. It shows how intolerable independent institutions have become in a country where truth is measured by allegiance and journalism is judged by its usefulness to power.
The refusal to commodify dissent, the refusal to monetize distrust, is no longer just a professional standard. It is a political act.
And in a democracy increasingly organized around spectacle, that act may be the last thing keeping the lights on.
The revolution, Gil Scott-Heron once wrote, would not be televised. If NPR falls, it will not be broadcast at all. Not because no one is speaking—but because the signal has been cut.
People from all walks of life use the public library, and all these people deserve to be there and have their information needs met—including those looking for accurate abortion resources.
Robert Francis Prevost was recently named as Pope Francis’ successor to one of the leading religions in the world, which makes the fact that 60% of U.S. Catholics think abortion should be legal in all or some cases even more powerful. But the reality is that laws, stigma, misinformation, and disinformation—or deliberately wrong information—continue to pose substantial barriers for many.
Wanting people to have access to accurate abortion information is actually what led me to library school.
Before Roe v. Wade was overturned by the U.S. Supreme Court, I volunteered at a Texas abortion fund. One instance that often replays in my head is when an abortion seeker reached out and shared they had an appointment at a clinic that week. However, the name did not sound familiar to me, which was an immediate red flag given the small number of clinics that had managed to remain open in the face of many restrictions.
While I might not be a librarian yet, I have witnessed firsthand the unfortunate consequences of people not knowing how to spot misinformation or where to find the facts.
So I did what I was trained to do: a quick online search to verify. When I discovered their website, it was filled with false information. I knew my fears had come true. This person did not have an appointment.
All I could do was provide emotional support and gently state the facts: This is a state-funded fake clinic and is meant to dissuade you from accessing the care you need, but real clinics exist.
After I walked them through the next steps—which consisted of making several more calls: first to an actual abortion clinic nearest to them and then back to us for funding once an appointment had been secured—I felt defeated.
I knew how to spot fake clinics because I had been taught what to look for. But knowing what kind of information to look for and where is not a skill everyone has time to learn, especially an abortion seeker in a hostile state where the hourglass to access is always quickly running out of sand.
In my first year of my Master’s in Library and Information Science program, I learned a series of lessons.
People from all walks of life use the public library. Students who need to use the public computers for homework, immigrant families attending bilingual story time, and retirees conducting personal research, just to name a few. All these people deserve to be there and have their information needs met.
Sometimes that information goes against our personal beliefs, but it is our job to provide information to those who ask for it without bias or judgment. As stated in the American Library Association’s Library Bill of Rights, our profession affirms that every person in our communities has the right to books and other resources of interest, information, and enlightenment.
While I might not be a librarian yet, I have witnessed firsthand the unfortunate consequences of people not knowing how to spot misinformation or where to find the facts.
One way librarians can address these issues is by using comprehensive information sources like INeedAnA and AbortionFinder, two public databases that provide verified information regarding abortion clinics, state laws, and more. Knowing they exist is an easy way to be prepared for an inevitable question from a patron. If one of your tasks as a librarian is to create LibGuides, those online resource guides that cover a range of topics, or other forms of guides, consider adding these websites to those on abortion. If your library has a public bulletin board, download a flyer or other printable graphic to share with your community.
To be sure, librarians and library workers are not in positions to provide legal or medical advice, and doing so could have serious ramifications. However, there is nothing illegal about simply giving someone information. If anything, this is how we uphold our communities’ freedom to information, and that is our professional responsibility regardless of our individual views.